No surprise.  He could have done it long before then.  All you had to do was ask him - and not only would he have done it, but he'd also have told you about it before, during, and after.

In a few years, the Arkansas-born right-hander was to replace a fading Babe Ruth as baseball's premier name and gate attraction as he enjoyed one of the game's merriest, albeit sadly aborted, careers.

Dean was an original, a character that Mark Twain might have conjured.  Sprung from a background of rural poverty and hardship, Dean never lost his sense of humor, his gusto approach to life, nor his ability to charm those around him.  He was a refreshing gale of optimism in those bleak, flat, and sour Depression years.

With all his charms and talents, Dean was a sly manipulator of the press.  Realizing that he was perceived as a prime slice of Americana, Dizzy played the role shrewdly, delighting the representatives of urban journalism with corn-fed wisecracks, stories, and postures.  "He played his tunes right across the backs of the city slickers," one writer said, and they loved it.  He suggested to the press that they call him "The Great One," and, as another writer said, "He was ingenuous enough not to seem arrogant, and he was good enough to back it up."  It was the  latter, of course, which made Dizzy Dean significant:  a live fastball, a big, sharp curve, and a change-up which he mixed deftly with his hard stuff.

Before the championship 1934 season, Dizzy welcomed his brother to the staff, predicting that they would win 45 between them.  When he heard this rather grandiose forecast in the spring, the laconic Paul said, "That's right.  I'll win ten and Diz can take care of the rest."  Of course, they backed it up, with Dizzy going 30-7 and Paul finishing 19-11.

In that amazing season, Dizzy started 33 games and relieved in 17 others.  He led in strikeouts for the 3rd straight year (195) and in shutouts (7).  But the brothers made news in August of '34 when they purposely missed a train bound for an exhibition game in Detroit and were fined $100 for Dizzy and $50 for Paul, fines they said they would not pay.  Their position was that they did not want to play in an exhibition game in the hottest part of a pennant race, without adequate compensation.  To emphasize their stand, Dizzy allowed himself to be photographed tearing up a pair of Cardinal uniforms.  The Deans said they were headed to Florida for the rest of the season.  After the team had some mild success without them, they returned.

Dizzy was remarkable not only in his success, but also his endurance.  He pitched in six games during the final 10 days.  He also:

• shut down Brooklyn 13-0 on a 3-hitter September 21 (Paul pitched a no-hitter in the second game of that doubleheader)
• relieved in both ends of a doubleheader on September 23
• stopped the Pittsburgh Pirates in a 3-2 victory two days later
• tossed a shutout victory on September 28, when he allowed the Cincinnati Reds only seven hits in nine innings
• hurled the pennant-clinching victory September 30, another 7-hitter against the Reds in a 9-0 triumph on the season's final day

In the 1934 Series, the Deans won all four games (out of a 7 game series), Dizzy with a 1.73 ERA, Paul with a 1.00 ERA.  

But perhaps the craziest Dizzy moment came in Game 3, when Dizzy put on an outrageous baserunning display.  With the Tigers leading 3-1, the Cardinals began a rally.  They had men on first and second when Spud Davis singled in a run.  Frisch decided to pinch-run for the heavy-legged Davis and was looking up and down the bench when Dizzy, on his own, ran out to first base.

"Frisch frowned when he saw Dizzy out there," Bill Hallahan said.  "He didn't like the idea.  You don't put 30-game winners in as pinch-runners.  But the guy was already on the field, so he said, 'Okay, let him be.' "

Frisch's uneasiness, however, immediately proved warranted.  The next batter hit a grounder to Gehringer (2B), who flipped it to Rogell (SS), who fired on to first base - only to find himself bouncing the peg right off the coconut of a 30-game winner.  "Dizzy had gone in standing up," Hallahan said.  "Why, I don't know.  I was going to ask him about it later, but by that time he'd already given ten different answers to ten different people.  Anyway, he went down like he'd been shot.  We all stood up in the dugout and you could just feel what everybody was thinking:  there goes the Series."

Dizzy was carried off the field and whisked to the hospital.  He showed up at the club's hotel that night hale and hearty, with a big grin on his face and a memorable line of reassurance:  "They X-rayed my head and didn't find anything."

In 1935, Dizzy again led the league in victories (28) and in complete games, and finished as the league's runner-up for the MVP award, to Chicago's Gabby Hartnett.

In 1936, Dizzy "dipped" to 24-13.  But during 1936, after starting off well, brother Paul injured his arm and was finished at the age of 23.  But despite injuries and not-so-much success on the field, the Gashouse Gang was still in full spirit.  Their classic caper involved Dizzy, as well as Pepper Martin and Ripper Collins.  One rainy afternoon, with their game postponed, the trio donned overalls and box-shaped carpenters' caps and, carrying ladders and hammers, invaded the banquet hall at their hotel, the swank Bellevue-Stratford in Philadelphia.  In that banquet hall was a large, stately dinner in progress.  Dean set up the ladder, climbed it, and began hammering on the ceiling, while his cohorts were rearranging furniture and crawling under tables.  The toastmasters and diners were outraged - until the intruders were recognized, whereupon they were applauded and invited to join the occasion and were seated at the head table.

Dizzy was also famous for taping a long piece of string to a dollar bill and sitting in a hotel lobby, snatching the buck away from the fingers of those who bent for it.

And on a broiling, 100-degree St. Louis afternoon, several Gashousers emerged in fur coats and built a fire in front of the dugout.

But in 1937, the magic ride came to a startling halt.  Selected to start the All-Star game for the National League at Washington's Griffith Stadium, Dean had almost completed his 3-inning stint when Cleveland's Earl Averill rifled a low blur of a line drive right back at the mound.  The missile rammed into Dizzy's right foot and broke a toe.  "Fractured, hell! The damned thing's broken!" Dean said.  But less than two weeks later, Dizzy was back on the mound, pitching against Bill McKechnie's Boston Braves.  Conflicting stories surround Dean's obviously premature return to the mound.  One story has it that the club did not want its biggest drawing card idled for very long, another that Dean insisted on pitching.  Whatever the facts, common sense should have prevailed and the club's MVP should not have have been allowed to return to work before he was fully healed.

Dean was pitching in Boston, he said, with "splints on my foot, and a shoe two sizes too big for me." To compensate, Dean placed all his weight on one foot. "Pain is stabbin' up through my hip," he said in describing the scene later. "Because of this, I change my natural style and don't follow through with my body on the delivery, so's I don't have to tromp down on my hurt foot…. As the ball left my hand, there was a loud crack in my shoulder, and my arm went numb down to my fingers." McKechnie had spotted this change of motion and urged him not to pitch.  But Dizzy Dean was 26-years-old, headstrong, grandly self-confident, and possessor of the most magnetic right arm in America.  He assured McKechnie it was all right. Despite the injury, a week and a half later Dean pitched 18 innings in an 8-6 victory over Cincinnati. It was his 13th and last win of the year.  Sadly enough, it was also his last victory as a Cardinal.

As damaged goods, the following spring, Rickey sold him to the Cubs for $185,000, the Cubs fully understanding they were receiving the shadow and not the monument.  But the idea of owning Dizzy Dean, even a Dizzy Dean whose fastball was as lethal as cabbage, was too much of a temptation to let pass.  Using guile and slow curves, Dizzy was 7-1 for the Cubs in 1938, helping them win a pennant.  Soon after, he was finished.

In 12 major league seasons, Dizzy was 150-83.  Had he used his head as well as he used his arm, who knows how great he could have been.

In June 1941, he started broadcasting Cardinals and Browns games for Falstaff beer.  Dean's disregard for correct grammar caught the attention of the St. Louis Board of Education, which demanded that he be taken off the air.  Dean stood his ground.  "Let the teachers teach English, and I will teach baseball."  As for his use of "ain't," he said, "There is a lot of people in the United States who say isn't, and they ain't eatin'."

Despite being a fan of fellow hurler Satchel Paige, announcer Dean was not a true supporter of multi-cultural baseball.  When the Cincinnati Reds loaded the bases with Ted Kluszewski on first, Bob Borkowski on second, and Fred Baczewski on third, Dean told listeners, "I was hopin' no one'd get a hit so I didn't have to pronounce them names."  When the next Cincinnati batter sent a drive in the direction of left-center, Dean announced, "There's a long drive - and here's Gene Kirby to tell you all about it."

Elected to the Hall of Fame in 1953, Dean informed his Cooperstown audience, "The good Lord was good to me. He gave me a strong body, a good right arm, and a weak mind."

Dean passed away in 1974 in Reno, Nevada.